


Skating Your Way to Happiness

by Darkravenwrote



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fred Weasley Lives, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Ice Skating, M/M, Teacher Draco Malfoy, Teacher Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-20 21:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17030703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkravenwrote/pseuds/Darkravenwrote
Summary: Harry doesn't realise it is a tradition until the third year. He also doesn't realise that, given time, it will be the key to his happiness. This is how it happens.





	Skating Your Way to Happiness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [semperfiona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperfiona/gifts).



> Happy holidays!! I feel like i lost my way a diddy bit from your prompts. This was all based around your ‘pretend you’re good at it’ with a subconscious look at your ‘standing on thin ice’ mantra as well. I had fun writing it anyway though, so I hope you like it anyway :) Lots of love. X
> 
> Written for HDOwlPost 2018 for semperfiona

Harry doesn't realise it is a tradition until the third year. He also doesn't realise that, given time, it will be the key to his happiness. This is how it happens.

The first year they go up to Hogwarts on the sixth of December to celebrate Hagrid's birthday and he's not there waiting with open arms and a tableful of baked goods, they don't' know what to do. Harry looks at Hermione, who looks at Ron, who looks bewilderedly back at Harry as they stand there alone in the frozen grounds. 

Not five minutes later a tawny owl sails through the frigid air and lands regally on Harry's shoulder. McGonagall informs them Hagrid is away solidifying family bonds -- 'giants do place great importance on birthdays,' Hermione mutters at his side -- and they are more than welcome to join the school for lunch despite term time being nowhere near over.

They take her up on her kind offer, pretending they don't hear all the younger students whispering behind their little fingers about them while they eat. It is a predictably awkward affair for Harry. But afterwards, absolutely on a whim, he draws McGonagall to one side before she can whisk off for her afternoon classes, and asks permission to go ice skating on the frozen black lack.

"Do make sure the appropriate fortifying charms are in place," she says with a small smile that belies the seriousness of her words. "The school could do without another inquiry at this time."

They leave Hermione to her spell work out in the cold while he and Ron run down to the kitchens for mugs of hot chocolate. They place them carefully on a bench by the shoreline under stasis charms, spell their heavy winter boots to grow the necessary blades, and join Hermione out on the lake's crystal surface in short order.

Harry quickly discovers he has neither the balance nor talent for skating, but is incalculably jolly at the fact that Hermione is worse. Ron seems to have some unfathomable grace on ice that he has nowhere else in life.

The next year, they bump into Luna and Neville on their way from Hogsmeade and invite them along.

"Won't Hagrid mind?" Neville asks as they step across the boundary onto school grounds.

"Not to worry," Hermione replies, her spirits high. "He might not be here anyway. We'll go skating on the lake if he's away." It occurs to Harry then that she's probably heavily researched the reason Hagrid was away the previous year and has concluded it will be an annual occurrence for the foreseeable future.

Neville gives Luna a puzzled look, but she smiles beatifically at him and, of course, they join them at the lake too. A group of their old school mates -- Hufflepuffs Harry barely remembers the names of really -- happen to be at the school giving guest lectures and career advice. All of them join the skate enthusiastically after they've finished their appointments.

Year three finds Harry sitting on a bench with his hot chocolate watching the Weasley twins -- their endeavour has grown to encompass most of the Weasley offspring now -- goading the giant squid through a thin patch of ice. Ginny's squeal when a tentacle punches through and splashes her with freezing water sets rounds of laughter echoing across the landscape.

That is the moment Harry realises it is a tradition.

He sips at his chocolate and wishes he could stand for more than two blasted minutes on his skates. At least, if anything good has come of this, his cushioning charms really are the plushest now.

Hermione wobbles across his vision then, her hands gripping Ron's as he guides her along the ice. She's still as bad as Harry. The only difference is she has someone to teach and support her.

Harry slurps his chocolate again enthusiastically to ward away the loneliness.

 

More people join them the next year, and the year after that. By year six, Harry thinks everyone from their school year and beyond must be there, barring the Slytherins who are probably off being important and succeeding in life. That's what he thinks, anyway, until Blaise Zabini turns up smiling broadly like he belongs there. From the way he kisses Luna's hand perhaps he does.

It isn't that Harry is  _ always _ single. He just is in December. He dates throughout the year, so he has no right to feel particularly lonely now. But when he looks out over the ice from his bench and counts the couples flirting and dancing with each other across the ice, he can't help the way his chest feels heavy but empty at the same time.

By year seven, McGonagall has become Minerva and Harry has moved into the castle as a trainee teacher. It's been a big year for Harry moving forward in almost all aspects of his life. The only thing about living in a castle in the middle of nowhere with a fuck-tonne of kids? It's shit for his love life. He hasn't dated in over a year -- assuming he doesn't count the three trainwreck blind dates Hermione forced him to attend at The Three Broomsticks before he forbade her from interfering. He doesn't count them. Obviously.

Year eight brings a wave of existential crises. Many of his friends have turned twenty-six in the past year and have realised they still don't know what they want to do with their lives. As Harry settles on his normal bench after a tentative circuit of the lake, he finds himself having heart-to-hearts with a multitude of people he hardly knows. He becomes a wealth of gossip and knowledge, much to Hermione's later enjoyment. 'Agony Aunt on Ice,' Ron guffaws and slaps him on the back later as they walk up to Harry's quarters.

 

The next year brings a surprise. Harry can't decide at the time whether it signals impending disaster or something else. Looking back he thinks it's funny that his whole life changes that year at the ice skating, and yet the defining moment doesn't even take place at the lake.

He's late going down after a meeting with Castus about a possible joint lesson plan in the new year when he walks straight into Draco Malfoy. Literally. His hot chocolate slops across his sleeve and Malfoy's sheaf of papers goes flying. Several hasty charms later, they stand in awkward silence in the cold pretending not to be awkward.

"Er, Potter," Malfoy greets cordially with a polite bob of his head.

Harry has barely seen him in years, but he looks well. His face has barely aged, the lucky fucker. Mrs Weasley laughs at him when he says he already feels old, but it's true. He feels his bones aching in the morning and his old war wounds hurt when it gets cold.

"Malfoy," Harry greets in return, glancing at the direction Malfoy had come from.

Malfoy must notice, because he says quickly, "I've just come from a meeting with McGonagall." He nods, although Harry can't tell if it's defensive or some social cue he isn't picking up on.

"I heard you were abroad," Harry says, just for something to say. Harry knows for a fact Malfoy was abroad, the student body wouldn't shut up about it when his face appeared on the front page of the Prophet. ('Professor Potter! Gosh, Professor Potter, didn't you go to school with Mr Malfoy. Isn't he dreamy? I mean, do you ever think he'd teach here?')

"In France." Malfoy bobs his head eagerly again, like he's warming up to the topic. "Getting my teaching qualification."

"I guess I don't need to ask what your meeting with Minerva was about then."

It's a well known fact that the DADA curse has passed to the Potions position now, and having seen the breakdown poor Professor Guillimore had last year Harry really does think of it as a curse.

"Oh, I'm not a Potions master," Malfoy corrects him quickly. "I'll be taking up Minerva's old post. She's been stretched so thin being headmistress and a teacher these past few years. She's finally decided to retire as an active teacher and focus on her other duties." It must be the longest thing Malfoy's ever said to Harry.

Almost by accident, Harry finds himself says, "There's skating. Out at the lake. If you wanted to come along."

Another long silence ensues. Harry wishes adamantly for Peeves to appear just for something to break it.

Then Malfoy lowers his head and says through the soft curtain of his pale hair, "I'd like that."

 

Ten years to the day when the group that has now become a crowd started ice skating together, Hagrid finally shows up to his own birthday party. It brings an even greater cheer to the event than usual. Hagrid doesn't skate, but Harry doesn't intend to either. They camp at his bench with baked goods that Harry is dubious about eating.

Of course, he doesn't count on Malfoy f'ing up his plans, which is his own mistake.

"I thought you said you were shit at this," Harry hisses as he's pulled bodily out on the ice feeling very much like a newborn colt.

"A Malfoy is never shit at anything," Draco sniffs, pulling his scarf up over his nose. This action reveals how truly oblivious Harry is.

"Is that my ruddy scarf, you thieving pillock?"

"No, I happen to like Gryffindor red if you must know."

"You don't!" Harry shoves at him and promptly falls back on his arse for his trouble.

"Now, now, Potter. Shall I tell you the secret to being good at everything, or would you like to continue making a fool of yourself down there?"

With a great deal of effort and absolutely no dignity, Harry manages to drag himself upright.

"Go on then, this should be good."

Draco's eyes squint as he smiles at Harry. If he were a betting man, Harry would place money on a smirk being fixed underneath his stolen scarf. He sighs irritably and gets a Malfoy very close to his face and warm breath ghosting over his ear for his trouble.

"Pretend."

"What?" Harry jerks back, almost losing his balance again.

"Pretend you're good at it." Draco flicks his glasses once and buttons the top of Harry's coat before sliding off to the side with a flamboyante spin that sets two Hufflepuffs cooing.

Harry tries not to pout from where he has been abandoned on the ice.


End file.
